Sacrificial Lamb
by Shadowsammy
Summary: Excerpts from my story, Sacrifice, that contain lemons. "My wish had been granted by the Valar. I was given a second chance at life – to find Seth, to fall in love. I could finally grow up. And I had become like the girl – the woman – that I had always wanted to be. Stronger and smarter. More confident. I would sacrifice all of it...for him." Aragorn X OC. AU ***COMPLETED***
1. Chapter 33 Always (Entire)

~Chapter Thirty Two~

Always

 _Just Close Your Eyes.  
The Sun Is Going Down._

 _Don't You Dare Look Out Your Window,  
Darling, Everything's On Fire; The War Outside Our Door Keeps Raging On.  
Hold Onto This Lullaby, Even When The Music's Gone._

 _No One Can Hurt You Now.  
Come Morning Light,  
You and I Will Be…  
Safe and Sound._

 _~Safe and Sound,_ by Taylor Swift

Disclaimer: Me No Own; You No Sue.

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 **If You're Reading This Story, Please Know It Contains Excerpts from My Lord of the Rings Story, _Sacrifice_ _._**

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 **"Besides," I softly said, mustering the courage to stare into his warm eyes, my own shining with the fear that I would be rejected by this wonderful Man, "I have feelings for someone else…"**

 **Silver glittered with sweet hope. "Who, might I ask, is the lucky Man?" Aragorn asked, and the nonchalance of his politely curious expression was at odds with his voice, which wavered with uncertainty.**

 **Uncertainty seemed foreign to him. He was not generally uncertain and prided himself, I knew, on remaining the confident leader of the Fellowship of the Ring. Aragorn, while unaccustomed to the demanding position of leadership, was actually born for it. It pumped steadily through his royal blue veins. So, like I said, uncertainty wasn't something that I expected from him. And I wanted to comfort him, to make his worries go away. Still I, being myself, could not resist the temptation.**

 **"Actually, I'm in love with the Dwarf," I bluntly declared, "You see, it is Gimli that I love!"**

 **"…WHAT?!"**

* * *

"Dear God!" I howled out, torn between amusement and hysterics, the latter of which caused tears of laughter to stream from my eyes. "Of all the things I miss, I think I most miss my camera at the moment! Y-y-your expression! If only I could capture it forever! Ha!"

Stormy eyes roared with frustration and, oddly enough, mild embarrassment that colored his tanned cheeks red. Aragorn pinched the bridge of his nose. He rubbed the flesh with his right hand and grumbled, "…Samantha…"

As always, I missed the warning in his voice and blindly blundered into his trap. My eyes were alight with mirth, and I could barely breathe though the loud (yeah, obnoxious) laughter that escaped from within me. "You should've _seen_ your expression, Aragorn! Ha, ha, ha!"

Eyes narrowed, Aragorn slowly smirked down at me, and I quieted suddenly, eyeing him with understandable misgiving. Fingers darted out and curled into my sensitive sides, making it hard to breathe – well, harder than it was when I laughed at him, anyway. I yipped at the sensation of suddenly being airborne; I'd not expected Aragorn to carry me away and to the bed. He made to drop me on the large bed, but I swiped both of his long legs out from beneath him at the exact moment, making him yelp and fall with me. He landed heavily atop me, making all of the air rush out of me, and I pushed at his chest. Aragorn swiftly pulled back, staring down at me in concern, thinking that I might be hurt, but I only scowled at him and huffed in irritation.

And Aragorn laughed, cheerfully throwing his head back and letting his laughter fill the air, making him sound and look so many years younger. My eyes softened. He did not often have much to laugh about because his mind remained elsewhere, with the darkness of his past and the bleakness of his future. Always thinking of his responsibilities, duties, oaths, and loyalties. Of being **King.** My Aragorn did not smile often, not that I could really remember, and I really thought that to be terrible. He should be happy. He _deserved_ to be happy!

"So do you," Aragorn said, his voice tender with sincerity, making it quite clear that the last few words had been spoken instead of kept within my mind. His hand slowly lifted to my cheek and cupped the skin with his palm. He rubbed the flushed skin with his thumb.

Blushing, I swiftly turned to the side to avoid staring into his older, knowing eyes. I eventually steeled myself and, though I could not bring myself to look him in the eyes yet, I muttered, "Aragorn, I wanted to ask you something…"

"Yes, Samantha?" The Ranger asked simply. He slowly pressed his lankier form into my curvier one, carefully bracing his weight with his elbows, and gently rested his head atop my chest. His breathing softened in relaxation and comfort.

Startled, I glanced down to see my sweet Aragorn resting there, his gray eyes closed and his nose on my collar bone. He seemed peaceful, and I did not think that the Ranger would try anything more, so it seemed fine to leave him there. I hesitantly reached out and buried five shaking fingers into his dark hair; it was softer than I thought, though still somewhat coarse at his temples. He rumbled lightly against me in pleasure, clearly enjoying the feeling when I scratched gently at his scalp and treated him like a person. Not Isildur's Heir. A Man.

Just…Aragorn.

 _My Aragorn._

Half asleep, Aragorn tightened his protective grip on my waist, and I smiled down at him, feeling the rush of gratitude for this Man who protected somebody that pretty much _hated_ him at first. I could not ever repay my companions, particularly Boromir and Aragorn, for treating me so well. Before, I would have thought myself in their debt and hated them for it. Now, though, I could tell that this was what people – what **friends** – did for one another. We helped out. We cared.

We loved…

"Your question," Aragorn suddenly prompted, his voice muffled because his face was now pretty much buried between my neck and shoulder. Warm breath whispered down the cleavage hidden beneath the pretty blue dress that I wore. And I shivered.

"Oh!" I chuckled nervously at being caught daydreaming again. "Well, I wanted to ask if you'd think it possible…" Taking another breath of desperately needed air, I rushed out the words and blurted, "…for you 'n me to be happy…" Heart in my eyes and throat. "…together?"

Slowly, Aragorn raised his head and shifted his shoulders to stare down at me. Gray eyes met mine, burning with something undeniably tender, and Aragorn sincerely said, "Yes, I most certainly do." He paused, then whispered something soft, melodic in Elvish.

Confused but curious, I trailed gentle fingers down his forehead and his nose, until I reached his lips. Here, I traced their outline and noted the small marks there from all of the times that Aragorn pursed his lips in thought. I shyly asked, "What does that mean?"

Gentle lips touched mine, and I did nothing, too startled to move away. He pulled back and then touched his forehead to mine. "It means, my sweet girl," Aragorn whispered, his nose and lips still brushing mine, "that I love you."

Eyes soft, Aragorn reached back down to kiss me again. I gasped into his mouth, taken aback by his sudden move, and his tongue slipped inside. My lips parted further, letting it slide against my own tongue, and I hesitantly kissed him back. Aragorn slowly, gently curled his arms around the waist that I subconsciously angled to his hips, which were just above mine, and squeezed lightly. I moaned softly at the feeling of his warm palms digging into me, and I leaned closer, pushing against his chest, wrapping my arms around his neck, holding him close. Never wanting to let him go.

A rumble of pleasure escaped from the Man who kissed like wildfire. "I wish to ask something of you," Aragorn said, suddenly breaking the kiss, his expression serious, to stare down at me.

"Anything," I mumbled, still dazed from the sensations of his kisses, which ranged from sweet and tender, to passionate and possessive. He'd completely managed to devour my poor mouth – and mind. Nothing made much sense now…

A smirk lifted his lips, like Aragorn was _proud of himself_ for making me so compliant and brain dead, the crazy, old Ranger! "Permit me the honor of loving you?" Aragorn deeply asked of me and, the moment that I slowly, tentatively nodded at him, reached forward to place his lips to mine again.

More kisses were placed to the parted lips that I offered to him. I leaned into his touch, letting him place kisses to my nose, eyes, cheeks, and forehead. Soon enough, though, Aragorn gained momentum and moved lower, his hot mouth swiftly nipping and sucking roughly at my collar bone, leaving a collection of red marks there. His fingers, which had trailed down my sides repeatedly, moved to the loosely tied white strings at the back. He pulled at the collar, his fingers deftly undoing the strings that tied and kept the dress in place.

Slowly, Aragorn pulled the soft dress down to my shoulders, then further, until it pooled at my waist. Although it made me shy, I did not feel too terribly uncomfortable, given that I'd bundled everything to make it appear much smaller. My chest, which jumped nervously beneath his hot, curious fingers, was actually much larger. Aragorn seemed to know this to be true, if the sudden flash of desire in his eyes was any indication. His eyes swiftly darted to mine in question, and I smiled, albeit nervously, granting him permission to do so. He paused, before kissing me again.

"Lean forward," Aragorn instructed, his voice huskier than normal, and gestured for me to lean closer. He clearly wanted to remove my cloth wrappings, but I did not know what would follow that move. Still, I was eager to find out. **More** than eager, really…

When I listened, Aragorn then moved his hands around to my shoulders and began to undo the carefully tied wrappings. His fingers pulled the white material from my suddenly bare chest, and the Man leaned back to stare down at me, a gleam in his eyes. He gently pushed at me, silently urging that I lie back down. Nervously, I continued to follow his instructions, but without his silent commands, I did not know what to do now. I moved restlessly, flustered, and whined almost inaudibly in confusion.

But Aragorn, knowing this of me, slowly leaned forward to place his body atop mine. He then resumed kissing the naked skin beneath his hands and face, his lips trailing from my collar bone, to my ribs, to my pierced navel. Recently cleaned, I could tell that the silver piercing was a point of interest, especially since most Women did not have many piercings. Only Dwarrowdams did that sort of thing in Middle Earth. Aragorn hesitated, his lips hovering against the cold metal, before descending to slip his wet tongue through the curved silver hoop. My eyes practically burst open. Aragorn licked the skin below the hoop, continued, and then slipped his tongue lower, until –

Infuriatingly, Aragorn stopped just above the junction between my softly parted thighs, and only continued when I whined again. He smirked at the pleading sounds and kissed the small button that his long fingers pressed earlier. While still covered with the lower half of the dress, I could feel the sensation, the pressure, and arched both hips against him, wanting to feel the heat again. Aragorn chuckled, kissing down there once more, and then moved back up, mouth burning fire against my tummy. A hand hesitantly covered the soft flesh, like Aragorn just thought of something of importance, and the Man suddenly pulled back.

"What's wrong?" I curiously asked, silently cursing myself for feeling shy again. But I was so very afraid that I might not be living up to his expectations, to the countless Women that had probably graced his bed throughout his years.

Yes, I knew Aragorn had done this before. I was a _virgin._ Not a complete _idiot…_

"If you and I make love, Samantha," Aragorn slowly explained, his voice heavy with the weight of his thoughts, "then you risk becoming round with child." His throat moving slowly, Aragorn lifted his eyes to mine and murmured, "My child."

Huh. Well, I honestly hadn't considered that because I'd become accustomed to taking birth control and pretty much practicing abstinence. Here, though, I did not have the luxury of birth control, and if I wanted to make love with Aragorn, then I needed to be mature and be prepared to face the consequences. Weirdly enough, I didn't think of having his children as a consequence. I actually found the idea quite pleasant. _Have Faith._

Maybe I would…

"You could take Stoneweed to prevent the likelihood of it happening, but it is still possible to become ripe with child when taking these herbs," Aragorn continued, sounding wary. Perhaps Aragorn worried that I would become pregnant or not want to sleep with him now. Regardless of his worries, I needed to make a choice. Now.

"Aragorn," I started, silently waiting for the Man to face me without wincing at the serious tone I used, "in all honesty, I've wanted children since I was sixteen, which is pretty _weird_ where I'm from, but…" I inhaled, smiling faintly at him, and admitted, "I suppose I wanted to make the family that I always wanted to have and be included in."

Eyes closed, Aragorn painfully stated, "You should not have to conceive and birth children to have other family members that love you." He did not seem to want to voice his next thoughts, but I smiled encouragingly at him, and the Man quietly asked, "Do you only want children from this night with me?"

"No!" I exclaimed, frantically lifting both hands to capture his face and pull it to me, eyes staring into his with desperation. "Aragorn, I love you so much that I would do _anything_ for you, even if that meant _not_ having children!" It was true, too, though it would hurt beyond words or measure. For him, I would do anything. For his smile, for his happiness…

 _Sacrifice._

Startled, Aragorn pulled back to stare at me. My declaration, filled with honesty, entered his ears. He leaned forward to capture my palms in his hands, lifting the knuckles to his mouth, and huskily declared, "On the contrary, I would be most pleased if you're willing to carry my children." And I nodded quietly at him in acceptance.

 _Live, Laugh, Love._ In that moment, Aragorn and I did something truly amazing. We changed not only each other with this single decision – no, this **promise** – but also Fate, which continued to guide us and intertwine his life with mine, and vice versa. _Have Hope._ We stared straight into the face opposite our own, gray and blue clashing like the stormy skies above the ocean in the midst of hurricanes. _Have Faith._

Heart pounding, I moved to rest beneath him, feeling strangely excited with the prospect of being nearly naked beneath Aragorn. My lips touched his cheek, then his ear, and I hopefully asked, "Touch me?"

Raising his eyes to meet mine, Aragorn smiled sweetly, his lips pulled back to reveal his straight teeth. "'t would be my pleasure, My Lady," Aragorn purred, his voice already lost beneath the weight of his lips and tongue, which curled around the breasts in his hands.

My Aragorn began to gently suckle at me. I gasped out, surprised at the alternating sensations of his wet mouth and hot breath washing over my naked skin. While not unpleasant, I thought it to be sort of strange and tried to lean away. He continued his sensual ministrations, however, and made certain that I could not move. His hands, which had been at my waist, slithered back; his right moved to my right breast, and his left, over my rear. He gently slipped his hand beneath my dress, his large hand nearly covering my ass cheek, his fingers digging into the tender skin with rough affection. And I moaned.

Lost in these sensations, I did not notice his hips meet mine and, when Aragorn bit down on my nipple particularly hard, I practically jumped off of the bed in searing white pleasure. My back arched, hips rising to meet his, and I moved from side to side, unintentionally brushing against his erection. He grunted in surprise, his hips bucking against mine, and I could feel him, could feel his manhood heavy and hard against my stomach. It did frighten me, and yet, I could not help but feel excited, too.

The Ranger must have sensed these feelings because, the next thing I knew, the rest of the blue dress vanished, pulled down my parted legs and tossed to the floor without a care. Beneath his fully clothed form, I only wore my panties. Staring at him, eyes wide, I bleated, " _Aragorn!_ "

A wicked smirk claimed his lips, and Aragorn pulled back to scan my nearly naked form, to which I weakly protested. I attempted to hit his shoulder, feeling embarrassed, but Aragorn only caught my wrist in his large hand, holding it gently. The other swiftly followed, and I could only pout up at him, annoyed at the ease with which Aragorn restrained me. Eyes softening, Aragorn kissed the knuckles of the hand closest to his mouth, pushing his lips there with a stubborn, firm strength. He then released both hands, before letting me move and sit up, a pink blush staining my nose.

Subconsciously, I lifted both arms and covered the naked breasts that Aragorn could clearly see, and blushed darker because the Ranger chuckled at me, amused with this sudden modesty. I suppose it _would_ be funny to the experienced Man, but I could not help feeling embarrassed, having not been in this situation before. Sensing that I'd become uncomfortable, though, Aragorn paused and then leaned back, bracing his weight on strong legs and ankles.

"Come to me," Aragorn quietly demanded, his fingers crooked, and I warily listened, slowly crawling to him on palms and knees. Something about the picture that I painted, with my mouth closer to his stomach than anything else, seemed to make him lose his composure. His cheeks flushed, silver eyes dark with want, Aragorn murmured, "Closer. _Much_ closer, little lover…"

Heat in my veins and stomach, I complied, leaning forward to touch him, hands trailing down his muscular chest. I let two fingers fall beneath the collar of his loose black tunic, brushing against the dark chest hair that I could barely see peeking out from beneath his shirt. The hairs were soft and featherlike to the touch, something that I marveled at. I attempted to explore again, but the Man moved backwards. Gently, Aragorn pushed at me, putting a greater distance between us, and pulled the tunic upward, from his chest, and tossed it to the floor to join my recently discarded dress.

Feeling hot, I leaned back to examine him. His skin, tanned beneath the sun under which his training occurred, appeared taut, stretched tightly over a collection of strong muscles and bones. Another collection, however, marred the perfection of his beautifully bronzed skin. Dozens of old wounds, scars ranging from long and red, to small and pink, covered his skin. Some were new, others probably older than _me_. I felt sad for him, until I could hear a whisper of the old words I'd heard back home: _Scars remind us of where we're from, and where we're goin', Angel._

No, I decided then. Aragorn was not old, not broken, and certainly not **scarred.** His skin was not marred beneath the carvings of silver swords and claws and other sharp weapons. His beauty was in his imperfections – his salt and peppered hair, his laugh lines, his calloused hands, his scars. Yes, Aragorn was perfectly _imperfect._ Just like me…

 _You shine like the stars._

"You're incredibly handsome," I suddenly said, completely serious in my words, to which the Ranger raised his eyebrows and stared at me, a strange expression plastered to his handsome face. He seemed almost…perplexed.

"Normally," Aragorn dryly muttered, his lips curling faintly in bemusement, "It is the _Man_ who compliments the lovely appearance of his _Woman_."

Grinning, I could not resist poking him in the chest and kissing the skin above his heart, which made him inhale sharply. I laughingly teased, "You must be getting slow in your years, then, Ranger!"

Appearing affronted, Aragorn lunged at me and started to tickle me again. I cackled the moment his fingers began to sink into my sides and laughed uproariously, not feeling the need to appear shy, dainty, and ladylike in front of this Man that loved the _real_ me. Why fake being someone else, like Lady Samantha, when Aragorn loved plain ol' Sammy Steel?

"I will show you my age!" Aragorn responded, his happy expression filled with laughter. He paused not two minutes later, however, appearing somewhat self-conscious. "Do I really look that old?" Clearing his throat, Aragorn sheepishly explained, "You always refer to me as a crazy, old Ranger…"

When presented with his question, I smiled faintly at this vulnerable and, admittedly, rather adorable side of the Man that I loved. I gently explained, "No, Aragorn, I just like to tease you, and I think you carry your age very well. Besides, I love you, regardless of the differences between us, includin' the fact that I'm much, _much_ younger." And I winced in worry.

Gray eyes were soft in the glow of the candlelight. "You will learn, little one, that I do not find much fault with your age, your open-mindedness, or your eccentricities, though I do wish you'd keep your mouth shut sometimes," Aragorn teased, loving that I scowled playfully at him at the reminder of all the times my words and beliefs caused trouble for us.

A thought suddenly whispered through me, and I could not help but wonder if there might be some truth to the fear. "You don't think of me as a child, do you?" I quietly asked him, feeling pathetically insecure next to his years of life and experience.

"No," Aragorn decidedly denied, permitting his heated stare to wander from my eyes, to bare chest, to obviously wet sex, "I think nothing of the sort." He paused, his gray eyes closed, and muttered, "If I did, I would certainly burn forever in the afterlife for thinking of all these things that I wish to do to you…"

Smirking happily at his words, I leaned forward and, lips against his ear, whispered, "Show me."

Then, Aragorn complied. His lips were on mine with the weight of his desire, but his hands dropped to his trousers, removing the belts that usually held his weapons and supplies. I soon moved both hands down to help him, carefully tugging his dark pants down while the Ranger bit down on my neck. I might like to preach about being fiercely independent, but somewhere, not even really deep down, I wanted to submit to this Man, and _only this Man._ Moaning, I leaned back, revealing more skin, and Aragorn growled softly in his throat at the submissive gesture. He brushed his lips over my newest love bite. Judging by his possessive expression and the sound of his growl, Aragorn was absurdly pleased with himself for making that hickey, too.

"Lie down, Samantha," Aragorn commanded with the barest hint of authority whispering into his words, his dark voice sending shivers up my spine and into my core. Oh! The way my name sounded coming from his lips…!

Slowly, I fell back to the bed, resting my waist against the sheets and head against his pillows, which smelled strongly of him. A familiar, heady scent of the forest, herbs, sunshine, and sweat made me want to curl around his pillow and hug it tightly to me. My heart pounded steadily in my chest, whispering in my ears of all the things to come, and of all the things that Aragorn would do to me. That I would do to _him._

A hand suddenly dropped to my waist, crawled down my stomach, fingers splayed just below my navel. "Do you want to stop?" Aragorn asked, roughly, and his voice was noticeably hoarser. "I ask because I do not think that I will be of the mind to do so after this point…"

"No," I protested, swiftly taking his hand in mine when Aragorn jerked back, taking this short answer as an order to stop. Softly, I brought his hand back to my stomach and corrected, "I want to…I want to make love with you…please?"

Something in him seemed to shift, and Aragorn moved forward to hug me close, his face buried in my shoulder, his hands on my arms, and his legs on either side of me. We stayed like that a moment, holding each other, and I leaned against his chest, blue eyes closed, listening to his heartbeat. I reveled in the medley of feelings – of safety, of affection, of love, and of gentle possessiveness – that Aragorn offered to me. And I hoped I that I offered him the same.

Slowly, I permitted Aragorn to move us closer to the sheets, until both his body and mine were suddenly horizontal. My panties were removed, followed by the thudding of his falling boots, and Aragorn then swiftly removed his breeches. His eyes on mine, Aragorn slipped his right hand between my parted legs, watching me as my eyes slowly followed the progress of his fingers, which parted wet lips, curling inside of me.

Biting down in surprise, I glanced at him from beneath fluttering eyelashes, and moaned softly in approval, enjoying the sensation of his two fingers slowly moving and curling against my warm inner walls. I could feel the stretching, and I absently realized that Aragorn must be preparing me, making it easier for the next step. Thoughts of what would happen in a moment made it hard to breathe. Suddenly, I was nervous, and afraid. That it would hurt, that I would not be good enough, that I would disappoint him. All these things 'n more.

"Do not fear, little Samantha," Aragorn murmured, his mouth against my ear, "I will be gentle."

Moving back, Aragorn insistently pushed into me, a soft mumble of Elvish falling from his lips like rain. My back arched, legs parted, and I could feel the pressure starting, a sign that Aragorn was going to break through the hymen in a minute. Stomach aching and heart pounding, I clung to him, fingernails scratching at his back, his strong muscles and shoulder blades. And then, Aragorn thrust within me.

Admittedly, I cried out in shock and in pain, feeling like I would break in half if Aragorn continued. He slowed, stopping mid thrust to let my smaller form adjust to his overwhelming size – which, I stupidly realized too late, was rather proportionate to his height. While a man of Earth might be six to eight inches, I had the sneaking suspicion that Aragorn might be nine to ten! And I'd always been shorter than the most girls. _Unfortunately!_

Yeah. In other words, I wanted to _**die**_ …

After a moment of cursing God, darkly wondering how anybody could think of sexual intercourse as a pleasant experience, I could feel Aragorn move. His tense form, which had begun to sweat profusely, inched further inside, until his manhood could be sheathed fully inside of me. I slowly moved with him, attempting to meet him thrust for thrust, when Aragorn started to really move. We fumbled for a moment, uncertain how to match the other, but then –

"…Harder, Aragorn!" I begged, lifting up and meeting the firm smack of his hips against mine. I opened blue eyes and watched him pull out and then push back in, sinking in until I could not see anymore. He hit something in me that made stars explode, my wild heart catching fire, and I desperately chanted, "Harder, harder, _harder!_ "

"As you wish," Aragorn hoarsely whispered and pulled back, holding himself above me with his palms splayed beside my shoulders. His knees were on the bed, lower legs stretched behind him, while mine were wrapped around his thin waist, ankles crossed behind his backside. We moved together, falling into a rhythm made for only us, and moaned softly into the mouth of the other.

"Little Samantha, look at me," Aragorn murmured, and I glanced at him, peering through half shuttered blue eyes. Silver wind met blue skies. A dark gleam entered his eyes, though I could not see it through the stars, and Aragorn growled, " _Scream my name._ "

Before, I'd been biting my cheeks, keeping quiet for the sake of keeping his reputation (and also _mine,_ as an afterthought) in good standing. I was not afraid of letting people know that I loved Aragorn. I didn't really want people to know that we'd slept together before marriage, though, because it was considered improper here. Our children would be bastards in their eyes, unless Aragorn and I married before their birth. So I wanted to keep quiet, to keep from crying out. His words, however, completely deteriorated that resolve…

"Holy Hell, Aragorn!" I gasped out, his name screaming out from between parted lips, again, and again, and again as my orgasm exploded like fireworks behind closed blue eyes. Whimpered, I only whimpered out a cry when Aragorn continued, and I screamed, "A-A- _Aragorn!_ "

"Good girl," Aragorn grunted, obviously pleased, and his hips began meeting mine in an even swifter, harsher rhythm. The Man pounded faster, harder, until – "Samantha!" More Elvish followed this soft cry.

Soft humming flowed through me, an aftershock of stars and fire and rain whispering in my veins with each residual pulse inside of me. I hugged him close as my quickened breathing slowed again and whispered, "Love you…"

"I love you, too," Aragorn murmured, kissing me gently, and placed his head back on my chest, just above the steady beat of the heart within its cage. A heart which belonged to him, I knew. It would – forever and for always – belong to him. So would I…

Yawning, I cuddled into his strong arms, savoring the familiar feeling of sleeping beside another warm person, and sleepily mumbled, "Shouldn't I head back to my room?"

"No, Samantha," Aragorn whispered back, brushing strands of golden hair from my eyes, "You will stay with me, as you always should." Silver eyes softened to molten liquid. "I will keep you safe, and I will love you." He gently placed another kiss to my red, swollen lips. "Sleep now."

"Stay with me?"

"Always…"

* * *

***Author's Note***

Hello! I have decided to pull the lemons from _Sacrifice_ and put them here, in the companion novella, _Sacrificial Lamb._

 _Sacrifice_ has been completely edited and is in the process of being uploaded and finished! Epilogue is done, too! Look for it later today. :)

 **PLEASE READ AND REVIEW!**

:)


	2. Chapter 41 My Angel (Entire)

~Chapter Forty~

My Angel

 _Baby,  
Don't Understand,  
Why We Can't Just Hold On  
To Each Other's Hands._

 _This Time Might Be The Last, I Fear.  
Unless I Make It All Too Clear:  
I Need You So…_

 _Take These Broken Wings,  
And Learn To Fly Again…_

 _And Learn To Live So Free._

 _~Broken Wings,_ by Mr. Mister

Disclaimer: Me No Own; You No Sue.

* * *

 **If You're Reading This Story, Please Know It Contains Excerpts from My Lord of the Rings Story, _Sacrifice_ _._**

* * *

 **As usual, Gandalf did not disappoint and started the discussion. He released his breath, blowing smoke from his between his lips, and cleared his throat to speak. "We all have much to do, and little time to prepare or move," The Wizard quietly said to us and then glanced at his hands. "I fear that there is not _enough_ time, in truth, to do what must be done…"**

 **Silently, Boromir glanced to Merry and Pippin, who remained curled against my stomach, and then stared solemnly back at the Wizard. "We have little time, as you mentioned, but not all is lost, Gandalf," Boromir returned with confidence that wavered only at the last part, letting his uncertainty show.**

 **"We all know what must be done," Gimli chipped in with his usual bluntness, hunching forward to place his palm to his knee and to stare straight at them. He shifted restlessly, though, uneasy with the suggestion, and grunted, "We must attack the problem from all sides, and…"**

 **"…We need to split up…" I softly whispered.**

* * *

"Aragorn…"

 _You might have defeated Death for the moment, Child, but the Witch King stalks the battlefield. And Death will return. Be cautious. Be wary. He will shatter shields and strike fear into the heart of the Sun._

Waking from slumber, I chased off the remnants of another nightmare and searched for him, for the warmth of his body burrowed into the sheets and pressed firmly against mine, but I could not find him. My left hand automatically sought his right and shot to the opposite side of the bed – Aragorn always slept beside me. Fingers touched nothing but sheets and blankets, and I lifted myself with elbows and forearms to scan my eyes over our empty bedroom. My stomach churned with sudden fear.

 _Where the fuck is Aragorn?_ I subconsciously responded to that fear – and also the draft coming in through the open window – by pulling emerald sheets higher to cover my naked breasts and bare stomach, hiding the soft swell of child. I calmed; the sheets were _warm_ , and the scent of tobacco smoke still lingered in the air. Aragorn could not be far away…

"Where are you?" I softly murmured, hearing the quiet rasp and smiling faintly in satisfaction, knowing the hoarseness was a result of being really vocal during lovemaking. My lover was especially affectionate last night following the party to honor the fallen Rohirrim, probably fearing that this would be the last time, and I had trouble keeping up. We'd shed clothing _everywhere_ in his haste to get to the bed.

Thus, I had lots of trouble locating all of the discarded clothing now, and I resorted to wearing my panties, his extra tunic, and the sheet that I had dragged from the bed to cover myself while I searched through the chaotic mess. I draped it over my arms and neck and back. Huddled into its embrace, I sniffed at the lingering scents of smoke, sweat, and the musk of sex. My belly burned with sudden interest, the smell and the thoughts of how the musk had been created arousing me.

Groaning, I scrubbed at my eyes and cheeks, heading for the closed door.

 _Damn hormones…!_

A staff, recently finished by Gandalf, leaned against the framework. I retrieved it, feeling kind of silly for carrying it everywhere until I grimly thought of all the trouble within neighboring lands, and made my way outside; it looked less conspicuous than the bow, too. Some of the Rohirrim Riders thought it to be a walking stick until I brandished it in front of them – or accidentally set their pants ablaze.

Which I had done.

Twice…

Following the scent of tobacco and smoke, I clutched the staff – small, white, and with a small blue crystal in its cradle – tightly to my chest and hurried down the empty halls. Ice cold, stone floors beneath bare feet urge me onwards, to Aragorn. I quietly scampered out and into the open, weaving in and out of the columns lining the courtyard of exotic flowers, tended to and prized above all by Eowyn. My friend, I suddenly recalled, would need to be told of the upcoming battles, and also her part in one. Death had been frightening enough, but the Witch King?

My conscience ached with uncertainty. I would not – _could not_ – tell her everything. I _could,_ however, tell her enough to keep her safe and…

 _War is coming._

… **Alive.**

A large hand suddenly clamped its way over my arm, and I yelped, fearful of the sudden touch, and balked to rid myself of the unwanted attention. I whirled around to hit the Man with my new staff, but his hands brushed it aside, his long fingers curling around the handle. Soft lips touched mine, tasting of salt and smoke. I calmed instantly, letting the familiar taste and smell wash over me as an arm curled, gently pulling until I relaxed in his hold. A tongue licked at my swollen lips, and I let them slowly fall apart, coaxed into submission by the fire in his kisses.

"Why are you up?" My lover demanded between kisses, his hands slowly wandering from arms, to hips, to the hem of his borrowed tunic. "You need sleep, Little One, and the babe does, too." Blinked in shock, and then frowned down at me. "On another note, I have to wonder why I feel the skin of bare legs…" Glare. "…Where are your _pants_?!"

Sighs of pleasure escaped, quietly lost to his lips, and made it hard to concentrate. It didn't help much that Aragorn expected explanations now, and yet continued to kiss me. I struggled to clear the fog of lust from my mind, thinking back to our room, and waking to find him gone – and of deciding to leave the room and search for him in nothing but his tunic. Not the smartest idea, I could admit. I hummed in thought, pondering his question and how best to respond, and ultimately deemed it pointless to respond. He wouldn't really like the answer, so…

I kissed him again.

"Samantha!"

At his insistence, however, I gave in and reluctantly mumbled, "Okay, okay! You were _gone_ , and I worried about it until I realized the sheets were warm. I smelled tobacco smoke, and I followed it here, hoping to convince you to sleep again."

"Cannot sleep," The Ranger grumbled around the pipe that quickly returned to his lips. Aragorn fiddled with it but did not light the dry leaves again and buried his fingers in hair that tumbled down over my shoulders, calming himself.

Sadly, I hugged both arms over my stomach; I let him play with the hair, but I tried not to touch him because I could tell that Aragorn did not want to be comforted right then. "…You need to take better care of yourself, Aragorn…" I pleaded with him.

"Samantha, I have _others_ to worry over, and it is difficult to sleep when I have the weight of this destiny on my shoulders. …I did not ask to become King," Aragorn explained, the weariness in his voice loud and clear. Fingers lifted his hand to touch his sword, checking to make certain it was near, and Aragorn glanced at the mountains dividing Rohan from Gondor – and Mordor.

Honestly, I could not tell which of those places scared him more…

 _ **You shine like the stars, Samantha May Steel.**_

 _So does Aragorn._

"What about me, and Faith?" I quietly asked him. While knowing that I really shouldn't add to his nearly endless list of worries, I _needed_ to play that card, if only to get him to return to bed and get another few hours of sleep! He needed it. Badly.

In the following silence, I gazed at him in concern. Purple bags pulled at the skin under his weary gray eyes and made him look like the Walking Dead. My lover was normally quite tan because of all the time spent in the sunshine, but his skin appeared paler, almost _sallow_ , and his cheeks had hollowed in the weeks since Helm's Deep. Aragorn washed his hair when possible, and I sometimes did it for him to give him the chance to sit in peace and quiet, without people asking him questions and telling him the latest bit of news. More silver streaked through the black now.

 _Damn, Aragorn looks_ _ **exhausted**_ _,_ I sadly thought, before giving in and holding him closer to hug him with all the might I could muster. The Man probably thought _me_ scared and worried, and Aragorn would be right; however, I was not scared for myself.

For him, though…

"…Faith?" The Ranger stared down at me, confused at the mention of this unfamiliar name, and then slowly blinked in recognition; the meaning dawned for him. A strange expression crossed his face, a mixture of embarrassment and manly pride, and Aragorn breathed, "You _named_ her…"

Blushing, I lifted both hands and played with the thick strings hanging from the collar of his favorite (and thus nearly threadbare) red tunic. He silently let me open up the shirt, baring the upper portion of his chest. I kissed the bit of skin above his strongly beating heart and nervously mumbled, "Estella Faith is what I picked. I, uh, thought it kinda appropriate, since her father is called Hope 'n all…"

Warm fingers clasped around mine, strong thumbs brushed circles into their skin, and gentle lips kissed their knuckles. "Estella Faith, daughter of _Estel_ and _Esseruloth_ …" Aragorn nuzzled the pinked flesh with tender affection, smiled softly, and whispered, "I like it."

"…Y-You do? Really?" I asked, in shock, and smiled hopefully at him, while also _completely_ missing the fact that Aragorn had actually slipped and referred to me in Elvish. He and I had discussed it briefly, whether I would keep my name. I liked being Sammy. **His** Samantha.

"Quite," Aragorn said in response. He smiled down at me and cupped his long fingers over my swollen belly, letting his thumbs brush against the belly button, which had started to stick out more. My lover smiled crookedly while staring down at his hands. "Inside here is Estella Faith."

"Our daughter," I happily proclaimed, placing both hands atop his and staring at the evidence of the family I had created for myself here in Middle Earth – me, my soon-to-be husband, and the child Aragorn and I had created together. Our daughter, Faith…

"Aragorn, Samantha," A voice called out to us as our own voices carried throughout the serenity of the quiet night. We listened for another moment and then followed the next words – "My friends" – to the far edge of the elevated courtyard, finding Legolas. "Come see."

Shock curdled the happiness inside, and I stared at him, horrified to find that stress had made its mark upon our (nearly) immortal and timeless friend, too. He was wearing the cloak from Lady Galadriel, finding the bite of the night cold for once – and also in the attempt to hide the sickly, grayish tint to his beautiful skin. Ancient blue eyes were weary.

I sucked in a small breath, feeling sick: _What is happening to us?_

"A terrible menace awakens," The Elf Prince murmured to us, a nervous gleam in his ancient eyes, "and while I sense a presence, a presence of another I thought long lost, I fear that her arrival will be far too late to prevent its rising."

Snarling, Oromë paced restlessly inside the Hall of Mandos. _The Witch King is here, waiting in the shadows, stalking the battlefield, claiming the lost souls of the fallen. We do not have_ _ **time**_ _to wait for the Green Angel. He will_ _ **hunt**_ _you, and shatter her shield, and strike fear into the heart of the Sun. Your world is separating from ours. But it is not yet done. Be cautious. Be wary._

 _ **THE EYE OF SAURON IS NEAR.**_

 _Be wary…_

The Ranger didn't notice the loss of color on my cheeks, and moved closer to his companion, his oldest friend. Aragorn stared off into the distance, blinking in thought and in worry. Hesitantly stated, "You speak of the Half-Elf, of the Green Angel…"

"Aye," Legolas softly returned, before placing his fingers over my own, which slowly moved to hold his hand. The Elf smiled down at me, and yet his thoughts remained far away – mine, too. "She, like this one, is gifted with animals and in Magic, though it is another of her abilities that the enemy covets."

Ears perked. "What is it, Legolas?" I asked him the question because Aragorn already appeared to know and understand the answer. Like Legolas, however, Aragorn had lived with the Elves, and with his time there came a rather extensive knowledge of their traditions, customs, and abilities. My lover had met several important and powerful Elves.

Lord Elrond, Lady Arwen, Lady Galadriel, Prince Legolas…

" _Soon I will be there, with you."_

And Mom.

"She has the Sight," Legolas kindly explained, though his shortened explanation hinted at his odd impatience and his desire for us to simply understand the reasoning behind his worries, which I could not fault him for, "and walks between worlds, thus her title – the Walker."

Slowly, I mulled this bit of information over, a sense of foreboding filling me. _The Valar have talked about that title before. My Mother, Manwë and Oromë claimed, is the Walker. Now Legolas claims his sister, the Half-Elf, is the Walker. Could it be…?_

"Apologies; I speak in riddles best left for the morning hours," The Elf lightly said. Mistaking my unease and fear for confusion, Legolas laughed softly, his tired face shining again with his amusement. He faced Aragorn. "Why not return to bed, Aragorn? We may speak in the morning…"

Following his pointed glance, Aragorn glanced down to me, a warm smile flickering to life at the sight of the bout of yawning I tried to stifle. The Man warmly chuckled, "Agreed, Legolas. We shall meet again in the morning, when we are well rested – and when a certain Woman does not follow me."

"A certain Woman would not have to follow a certain Man if the certain Man stayed in bed to cuddle with his Woman, who is tired, and hormonal, and _carrying his child_ ," I retorted in a grumble and halfheartedly glared at him through narrowed blue eyes. Aragorn paled.

"Good luck, Aragorn, in begging yourself back into her graces!" The Elf bit back laughter at his resulting expression terror and clasped his shoulder in comradery. Smirked at the dark glower I tossed his way as well. "You will need it, I see."

Grimacing, Aragorn glared after his _supposed_ friend and then glanced back down to me. A wary look clouded his silver irises, turning them nearly black, though it darkened in the next moment for yet another reason. I tried to hide the laughter that threatened to bubble to the surface, but I could not hold it in, and I burst into snickers at the sight of his thoroughly chastised expression. Almost ninety, and sometimes afraid of little ol' me! Ha!

My lover gaped, and then slowly grinned at me, my snorts of laughter letting him know that I had been playing around the whole time and merely teasing him. "Two shall play this game," Aragorn teased, before crouching down – and leaping straight at me!

Stifling a squeal, I scurried backwards like a startled crab and then bolted for the relative safety of the bedroom Aragorn and I shared. I hurried down the same path that I had followed earlier, taking this turn and that one, my eyes on our closed bedroom door. When I reached it, I threw the door open, ran inside, and slammed it shut. I fiddled with the handle, locking it tightly to keep him out. Shoved the nearest chair in front of it, too! My staff leaned against the chair.

"Check and mate, Aragorn!"I crowed loudly in triumph, standing back with hands to hips and smirk to lips to observe the quick bit of handiwork. My barricade would definitely hold should the crafty Man attempt to pick the lock. _Yeah, Ranger! Try getting in here_ _ **now**_ _!_

"Clever, Little One, but not clever enough…" Aragorn returned with dark amusement, the sound of his purring words sending shivers down my spine, "…because I believe it will simply be _mate_ in this instance." Smirk. "I win."

In shock, I slowly turned to gape at the window, _which had been left open._ Aragorn was perched there, atop the ledge, with the glass shutters hanging behind his tall, lanky form. He already had his right leg in the room, and the other followed quickly, dropping to the floor with a soft _thud._ The Man was so very quick in climbing through the window that I could not even reopen the locked door, like I had planned the moment I noticed him crouched there like a predator.

"Lemme go," I whined the protest when his strong forearms were on my curvy waist, lifting up, up, up. I stopped whining as my wicked lover cupped his hands atop soft breasts, which had since filled with the milk needed to feed his growing child and become increasingly tender. Aragorn lightly squeezed them with his calloused fingers. A soft moan was my response.

"Oh? You truly desire that I cease?" Aragorn playfully asked, the question light, and retracted his hands, letting them fall to his sides. He smirked at the frustrated whine that I let out at the sudden loss of contact. "Shall I show you what I promised, instead?"

My heart hammered inside, but I stared at him with interest, my eyes warming, darkening with excitement. I remembered it so very clearly: _"If I asked nicely,"_ Aragorn had purred in my ear, a warm palm cupping my rear and kneading the soft flesh with strong fingers, _"would I be able to convince you to try something with me?"_

Slowly, I moved closer to Aragorn, taking his open palm and following him to the large bed that waited in the middle of the bedroom. He climbed into it first – which I absently noted with some confusion, since I usually went in first, followed by Aragorn – and then pulled at the two clasped hands connecting us. I complied without words, climbing into the bed and letting him, trusting him, to lead. My lover pulled lightly at my arm until I crawled into his lap, seated there and waiting for his command. Big blue eyes were eager. Trusting.

Groaning, Aragorn leaned into me and kissed the neck I bared for him, the lips I offered to him in submission. Fire burned in the wake of his warm, open mouth. I cried out as a particularly sharp nip bit into my neck. My lover soothed it with his tongue and murmured, "May I be beneath you?"

My heart stopped momentarily; it stuttered in shock beneath the weight of this question and all that it meant. Aragorn was always dominant, always in control in the bedroom, but wanted to give in, to be at _my_ mercy. "Y-You want me t-to…" Barely breathing, I gaped at him in cold disbelief and squeaked out, "… _ride you?_ "

The Ranger slowly, almost shyly, inclined his head in agreement, his dark hair falling down into his face and into beautiful silver eyes. He licked his lips and groaned again when I squirmed in his lap, the uncertainty of what to do – of how to _ride him_ – making me nervous. _Ride him? Ride the Ranger? Where's the punch line?!_

Through the pain of being hard and erect and ready, Aragorn bucked his hips against mine and rasped out, "Yes. _Yes._ Sweet Eru, I want you…"

Although uncertain, I wanted to do this for him, and for _us._ I was comfortable being independent and taking charge, and I usually made certain that my opinions and thoughts met the light of day, but I had become rather accustomed to letting Aragorn lead and make the decisions, _especially_ in the bedroom. After all, Middle Earth Men preferred to be the dominant partner in relationships, particularly those sexual in nature; however, I would be happy to take the lead for once and let him fall back to rest, to savor our pleasures while I did most – if not all – of the work. He refused before, balking at the thought of not leading and pleasuring me. It confused him.

Honestly, I did not really mind the difference in rearing or years, my affection and love for him overriding everything else, even our ages. Some might think it strange, maybe disgusting, that Aragorn had become my protector, lover, _and_ teacher. He was so damn stubborn sometimes, though! Aragorn refused help, instead stretching himself too thin in attempting to please everyone, even me. _My turn now…_

"Teach me," I breathed.

My Man slowly reclined back to rest against the pillows and grasped the slender fingers that I offered him. Aragorn guided them to his weeping manhood, and I circled it with index finger and thumb, pressing gently against the pink tip. It pulsed beneath the pressure, a strum of his heartbeat whispering inside. A surprised grunt escaped from between his parting lips when I increased the pressure, wanting to hear him to fall apart, at my mercy.

"Harder," Aragorn begged, his hips bucking in time to the pressure my small fingers applied, and moved his hand to mine, guiding it further down the shaft. "Right here, Samantha." He grunted, liking that I applied plenty of pressure while increasing the speed. My lover groaned throatily. "Valar help me…"

Beneath the touches, I could feel it growing, if possible, more erect. Veins, blue and purple, seemed to pulse quicker up and down his shaft, speeding up with each quick swipe of the hand. With that in mind, I leaned down to kiss his tip, and then engulfed his manhood with my mouth. Hearing the startled shout of the Man above but not paying much attention to his rush of words, I continued to suck lightly, circling the flesh with my pink tongue. I moved back and forth, sliding his manhood in and out, lips popping obscenely. It wasn't something I had done often, but in the months I had spent with Aragorn, I had occasionally convinced him to let me. So I had become somewhat good at it, knowing how to make him last – or make him _cum._

Elvish rained down from his lips, and Aragorn cried out, frantically speaking words that I had learned, and others that I had yet to figure out. I pulled back, licking his warm seed from parted lips while waiting for him to return to me. Blinking sleepily, Aragorn turned to stare at me, and, the moment silver met blue, smirked happily. I smiled proudly back, falling against his chest to let him kiss me again – and again, and again, and _again._

Kisses, first soft, became increasingly heated again. I could feel Aragorn become excited again, the evidence thick and heavy against my tummy. My sex, which ached pleasantly, become wet again, and I pushed insistently against his slender hips with my much curvier ones. Grunting, Aragorn reached down to cup my rear and then used his knee to part my own. His erection jumped forward to brush against my entrance, almost slipping inside, but not quite.

Growling softly, I pushed him backwards, taking him by surprise and staring down at him, delighted, when Aragorn submitted without words, his pupils blown wide with lust. I stretched him out, pushing his limbs out to the sides, and straddled his waist. I slowly, carefully, lowered myself down. One hand reached down to guide his thick manhood into my sex, and the other curled around the breasts that began to bounce with each motion I made. Up and down I bounced, slowly sliding him in and out, in and out, in and out. Aragorn groaned.

A hand lifted, but I smacked it back down, refusing to let him touch me. I leaned forward instead, dropping both arms and brushing soft breasts and swollen stomach against his chest, loving the feeling of being pressed close together, flesh to flesh. I snapped aching hips forward, slapping them against his and tossing long hair over my shoulder. Aragorn, knowing I could not counter him with both hands braced against his sides, reached forward to bury his hands within it. He tugged, hard, kissing and biting the pale skin of the neck I bared to him. Hands lowered to cup my naked breasts, and I mewled in pleasure.

"Thrust faster, Little Lover," Aragorn coaxed, dropping his hands to my waist and leaving them there. One finger jumped to the side and rubbed against the little button throbbing inside of me. I nearly faltered, but instead, I gently moved his hand aside and touched it myself. Something inside roared to life. Bravery. Lust. _Love._

"Watch me," I purred, left hand palming my nipples and right hand repeatedly circling the little button, all the while thrusting faster against him. My lover stared with wide eyes as my pleasures reached greater heights. Aragorn, in turn, came completely undone.

"Samantha," My lover moaned and tossed his head back, letting it fall to the pillows bracing his shoulders and back. A shiver crawled down his rigid form, trickling down his taut muscles like rainwater. Suddenly, Aragorn arched his back, and released his seed deep inside of me.

"Fucking Hell, Aragorn…" I gasped, slipped down to his side, and just stayed there, riding the aftershocks of his orgasm and mine like a wave. I could feel him still pulsing inside while my own walls clenched tightly around his softening length, milking him. "Damn, damn, _damn!_ "

Unexpectedly, Aragorn kissed the tip of my nose and chuckled, "You may wear a mask, change, or mature, Samantha, but I will always, _always_ know it is you." Warm eyes were on me, a softness in them that brought tears to my own.

"You love me," I teasingly whispered to him through the tears, holding his right hand tightly and bracing my arms and chin atop his chest to stare into his handsome face, observing his laugh lines and smile. Humming in satisfaction.

"I do," Aragorn softly returned without hesitance and with affection, falling to sleep beneath me, an arm over my side and stomach. My lover snored softly in my ear, and I simply rested there, hugging him, wishing that I could protect him from all of the stress and pain, and watched the slow ascent of the golden morning sun.

* * *

***Author's Note***

Hello! I have decided to pull the lemons from _Sacrifice_ and put them here, in the companion novella, _Sacrificial Lamb._

 _Sacrifice_ has been completely edited and is in the process of being uploaded and finished! Epilogue is done, too! Look for it later today. :)

 **PLEASE READ AND REVIEW!**

:)


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